The Skin of Tradition

The foreigner watches a wedding in fascination large bindi squatting on her forehead red saree colouring white limbs. The elders enthuse at how she sits relaxed on the dusty ground reveres the sacredness of every chant embraces chaos in wondrous happiness.   The Americans, Germans, English, French, Italians flock here, hearts one with conch shells; cross-legged, slurp white rice and dal from banana leaves. Yet I, I ask for my fork and spoon. Yet I, Read More …